


Beginnings

by separatedrain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Pre-Slash, Technically deathfic but with a reasonably happy ending?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/separatedrain/pseuds/separatedrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas, the son of a bitch, had managed to find a way to fix it all. Undo Metatron’s spell, get the angels their wings back. Course, it had to come at the expense of getting himself sealed away in there, ‘cause ain’t that just how things always go for them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> ([Also on Tumblr.](http://separatedrain.tumblr.com/post/73826899629/this-is-how-it-ends-cas-the-son-of-a-bitch))

This is how it ends.

Cas, the son of a bitch, had managed to find a way to fix it all. Undo Metatron’s spell, get the angels their wings back. Course, it had to come at the expense of getting himself sealed away in there, ‘cause ain’t that just how things always go for them?

He’d tried everything, of course, but it seemed the angel was locked up for good this time. What’s that saying again? You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone? Well. Not entirely true. Part of him had always known full well what he could’ve had, if he hadn’t been too chicken-shit to ask for it. But that, him and Cas, that would’ve been something close to perfection, and Dean Winchester doesn’t get to have perfect things. So he hadn’t, least not until it was too late — prayers definitely a one-way street, now — and the fact that it was now permanently out of reach, well, it sure didn’t make things any _better_.

He tried moving on. Went back onto good old-fashioned hunts. Even tried a thing or two with a girl or two, but it’s just not the same. It’s somehow not the same as this thing he never even had in the first place.

So maybe his best friends started going by names like Jim and Jack. Again. Whatever. ‘S probably how he wound up in today’s mess in the first place. He doesn’t quite remember when he stopped staying sober at least for hunts, and he doesn’t quite care. Still. Fact of the matter is it can’t have worked wonders for his reflexes, and that fact just came to light in the ugliest way possible.

Least Sammy’s not here to see it. Sam’s not out of the life entirely, no, but he’s definitely more than ever on the research side of things these days. Largely on account of him and Jody having a little one running around now. At least one of them managed to get it right, and hey, there’s a good thought to hold onto.

‘Cause these are the things Dean thinks about, blood streaming down his stomach, knowing he’s got maybe a few seconds of consciousness left. Knowing no one will get to him in time, no damn ambulance, definitely no life-saving angel. Knowing that, considering the past 40-odd years, he’s secured his one-way ticket downstairs a long time ago. These are the things he thinks about, as pain gets replaced by numbness, as darkness encroaches the edges of his v—

Just like that, he’s standing in the middle of a garden, all grass and sunlight and roses, and if this is Hell, they sure have remodelled since last time. He just stands there for a moment, takes it all in in disbelief.

The sudden rustle behind him is all too familiar. He doesn’t turn around, not yet, terrified of getting his newly blooming hope crushed.

"Hello, Dean."

This isn’t how it ends.

This is a new beginning.


End file.
